


Breathlessly to Scream

by Elivira



Category: Stargate - All Media Types, Stargate SG-1
Genre: Character Death, Character Study, Civilians in an Active Warzone?, Dealing With Trauma, Gen, Non-Linear Narrative, Note the Sarcasm..., Original Scientist Character(s), PTSD, Trauma, great idea!, it’s and oc I promise!, scientists - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:27:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26018002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elivira/pseuds/Elivira
Summary: The first time you see the event horizon it's blue, beautiful, and it takes your breath away. Now, in your dreams, the surface is bloodstained, bright red.On the SGCs high morbidity rate. On healing from trauma. And on learning to move on.
Comments: 10
Kudos: 19





	Breathlessly to Scream

**Author's Note:**

> This is a very different style than a lot of what I've written but I think it turned out well! Title is from the poem "Memory Shouldn't Be" by Frank Ochberg. CC is always welcome but please be productive!

Your heart pounds as you run, feet hitting the ground in tune with the music in your ears. Sometimes, you think that if you run fast enough, far enough, everything that has happened will just disappear.

***

In your dreams, the event horizon is blood stained. Staff weapons flash bright, harsh in the dim light of a planet thousands and thousands of light years away. Your hands are slippery with blood as you try to hold yourself together, but it's not you you're holding together, suddenly, it's Major Young. You wake up with wet cheeks and burning eyes.

***

They come a week before the end of term. You’re grading papers for your intro ecology class and someone knocks on your office door.

“Dr. Moore,” they say, “how would you like a job?”

They weave a story that sounds like a dream job, tell you just enough you can’t say no and suddenly you're moving to Colorado Springs. 

***

The first time you hold a handgun, your hands feel stiff and weak, fingers pressed white on the grip.

“The chances you'll need this training in the field are relatively low,” the instructor says, “but all members of a gate team must be proficient with a handgun.” 

You believe him. 

***

The first time you hold a P-90, your hands shake and sweat makes your BDUs stick to the small of your back. The sounds of the fighting around you is drowned out by your heartbeat in your ears and the quick shallow breaths in your lungs. The gun feels heavy in your hands and you have to brace your legs to hold it up and steady. Your finger slips on the trigger, slick with blood.

Major Young lays still on the ground, disheveled from you maneuvering the gun from around his shoulders.

“Callie! Grab his gun!” Captain Evans had ordered, and your stomach had turned at the thought.

The sound of Jaffa staff weapons and the sharp sound of machine gun fire pulls you to your senses. You wipe your hand on your pants, fumbling as you reach back up toward the trigger. Pointing the muzzle of Major Young’s gun at the jaffa raising his staff weapon towards Captain Evans, you close your eyes, and squeeze the trigger.

***

The first time you meet Major Riley Young is when he stops by your lab to introduce himself. You’ve just received your gate team assignment and are brimming with excitement. The thoughts of going off-world regularly, collecting samples and cataloguing specimens, all the new things you’ll be able to learn has you feeling like a kid on Christmas morning.

“Major Riley Young, Ma’am.” He introduces himself, a smile on his face and his hand out. “I hear we're gonna be teammates.”

You smile back from where you're picking through a soil sample for seeds, and brush your dirt covered hands together in a fruitless attempt to clean them. “Dr. Callie Moore,” you say back “I hear we are. Great to meet you.”

***

Your first trip through the gate is to the Alpha site. It’s a test to see if you can handle gate travel and you come out on the other side gasping for breath, chest tight. The light of an alien world shines bright orange and you remember someone saying that the planet star is a red giant. You see the sun above, it’s orange light tinting a sky that would have been blue, a brownish green. 

The sounds of an unfamiliar animal calling make you tilt your head and the grass beneath your feet crunches, strangely springy.

 _This is it,_ you think, _oh God this is it._

You laugh, grinning, as you spin to take in the world around you.

***

Dr. Fraiser releases you from the base infirmary with a pat on the back and a prescription for antibiotics, some light pain medication, and a warning to eat before taking them.

Your arm aches, throbbing in time with your heartbeat. The doctor had said it would take a while to heal, that “staff weapon wounds always do,” and you should take it easy.

Your two remaining teammates greet you at the door and Captain Evans rests a hand on your shoulder and smiles in greeting. Sergeant Takeda looks at you sadly and nods. 

For the first time, you realize what it means that this is his third team. 

***

The base psychologist asks if you still want to work on a gate team, to work with Evans and Takeda, or if you’d prefer to stay earthside. 

“Yes,” you say, voice hoarse, “I want to.” You don’t know why you agree, don't even know if you really do want to, but it's as if you can’t do anything else. You wonder if this is how Sergent Takeda feels when he talks about the gate, about his time in Atlantis, about his ten years at the SGC. As if there’s no way he can leave it behind for good, as much a part of him as his hands or feet.

***

You fumble at your med kit, one hand holding your bandana to the bloody side of Major Young’s tac vest. Your mind races as you try to remember the two day course you’d taken on first aid. _Apply pressure_ , you tell yourself, _wait for Evans, and head for the gate when it's safe._

You find the field bandages and unwrap them with shaking hands, pressing them to his side hard despite the worry you might hurt him. “Riley!” You gasp. “Riley! Wake up!”

His chest isn't rising with the telltale signs of breath and you grab another bandage to secure the already bloody ones in place in preparation to start CPR.

“Tau’ri!” A jaffa hisses, coming up behind you hand grabbing you by the hair roughly as he pulls you from Major Young. You cry out in surprise.

A shot rings out and the jaffa falls. Warm liquid splatters on your face. 

“Oh God!” You gasp.

Captain Evans walks towards you, holstering his handgun and Sergeant Takeda pans his P-90 around the clearing. You gasp for breath, bent over, hands on your knees. The jaffa’s body lays a couple feet to your right. You can’t tear your eyes away from his face. 

“Dr. Moore,” Captain Evan says, “are you okay?”

“I don’t know.” The words come out quick and breathless. “I need to - Major Young - I -”

“Takeda’s got him.” Evans says, looking grim. He rests a hand on your back, “take a deep breath.” He says and you realize that you’re hyperventilating. 

You try and slow your gasping breath, your throat dry. The wind picks up, cooling what must be blood splattered on your face and you turn away from Evans, healing as your stomach rebels. 

“Deep breaths.” Captain Evan says. “Deep breaths.”

The second wave of jaffa come out of nowhere.

***

Major Riley Young’s funeral is on a Saturday. His mother cries loudly in the front row and his father sits beside her, eyes shining. Your heart aches with the thought that they will never know what truly happened to their son.

You stand in the back, shoulders hunched and eyes wet, Evans and Takeda standing at your side.

***

The first time you see the Stargate, your breath catches in your throat and reality, that you had been navigating like a dream since the moment you finish signing the NDA, comes rushing back. 

The event horizon shines blue, beautiful even under Level 28’s harsh artificial lighting.

***

On your first day back at the SGC after your two weeks of medical leave you spend your lunch break in the gym watching the marines spar. Teal’c of Chulak is there, and every time he moves in your direction you hold back a flinch. 

He moves like a jaffa (is a jaffa), every movement measured and purposeful. The symbol on his forehead is a distinct reminder of who he used to be. It makes you want to go back and hide in your lab. Instead, you continue to watch as he trades blows with a sweating marine, as Teal’c shows how to use his arm to walk a blow and return it twofold.

You sign up for a time slot at the SGC shooting range and for the extra hand to hand classes they offer for civilians.

***

Dr. Jackson pokes his head into your office on your second day back. “I heard what happened.” He says.

At a loss for anything to say, you nod.

“I’m sorry,” he continues, “but welcome back.”

“Thank you.” You reply.

You wonder why he’s here. You’ve met him a couple times. He’d run your orientation talk and you see him in the hall every now and then, but the ecology labs and the linguistics labs are on opposite sides of the science wings. He's the head of the SGC civilians and something of a legend from here in the mountain to Atlantis all the way out in Pegasus, all of the SG-1 is really, so it's a bit surreal to have him poking his head in your lab just to make smalltalk.

“If you need anything,” Dr. Jackson starts, “there’s a civilian post trauma group therapy that meets on Wednesdays in the library at fifteen hundred.” There’s something soft and sad in his eyes, and from anyone else, the sympathy would frustrate you but this is Daniel Jackson speaking. If anyone understands it’s probably him.

Dr. Jackson looks a little uncomfortable as he stands there, like he doesn’t know what else to say and you know he’s probably only here because the base civilians are his responsibility. It feels good though to know that someone understands. You have your team, sure, but they're military and in the end it’s different for civilians.

“Okay,” you shift uncomfortably in your seat, “I’ll keep that in mind.” 

He nods briskly as if completing a set task, before turning to leave.

“Dr. Jackson!” You call out and he pauses, looking back, “Thank you,” you smile wanely, “really.”

***

Your new team leader is a tall, skinny man with a long nose and haircut close to his head. He’s okay. Polite, in a military way, respectful but obviously thinks that scientists are beneath him and civilian ones doubly so. You miss Major Young.

***

Captain Evans rests his hand lightly on your shoulder.

“Hey,” he says, “you don’t have to do this.”

The event horizon ripples shining brightly, and you take a deep breath, adjusting the straps of your pack. “Yes,” you say, “I do. “

Major Grant steps forward up the ramp. He’s new to leading a gate team but not to the SGC, and not your favorite, but he's polite and professional.

“SG-23 ready to go, sir.” He barks into his radio. 

“SG-23 clear to gate PX9-304. Have a good trip. “

“Roger that.” Major Grant barks back, and heads forward, stepping through the gate without hesitation.

You take a deep breath, hefting your pack and walking up the ramp. You take another breath, nod your head quick and jerkily, and step through the gate.


End file.
